"So, tell me again why we’re walking around in the dark rather than setting up camp somewhere," Pennsylvania grumbled as he stumbled over another log jutting out from the pitchy darkness.

"Oh, Halpert, there is so much you need to learn about outdoorsmanship," Dwight sneered back. "Fact: Bigfoot is nocturnal." He pushed one of the raised fingers on his left down with the opposite hand and continued. "Also a fact: Bigfoot can run faster than a black bear…which is pretty fast. Third fact: the chupacabra has an excellent sense of hearing and combined with the Bigfoot’s ability to smell and see in the dark, it forms an almost impenetrable field of detection capabilities. It’s like RADAR and SONAR all rolled into one. Fact-"

"Da-wight still plays with plastic swords as a 35 year old man," Pennsylvania cut in.

"OK, obviously you have no idea what this is, Halpert. You will be thanking me should we run into any storm troopers out here" the older man chided, clutching the deluxe light saber like a proud parent.

"Or 8 year old George Lucas fans…" Pennsylvania said, raising his eyebrows in a quizzical manner. He heard the plop of three bodies hitting the ground nearby, writhing in ecstasy at the mere sight of one of his many faces.

Dwight tensed at the affront to his manhood but stopped short of responding. "Well, now if you’d quit interrupting, I was just going to suggest that we walk single file in order to minimize the posterior surface area of the group in case of an attack."

Pennsylvania had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling, but he figured that it would be best not to cause any more internal strife. "OK," he replied, and they continued to wind and twist their way through the ebony maze of downed trees and untold dangers.

They’d traversed but a few hundred yards when they came upon a large cemented ditch bubbling with hot sticky material, likely honey, coursing through a landscape of remains of the unfortunate souls that had found their way into the bottom of it and gotten stuck. Over time, the remnants had petrified so that they were almost statuesque in appearance…like busts of ancient passers-by, trapped for all eternity. Pennsylvania had to shield his nose from the foul smell, turning to Dwight to see if he had any idea what this was…and how to make their way around it.

"This is the Gutter of Eternal Peril. Those who fall into here never escape," Dwight whispered, responding to the questions unasked. It was touching, really, and he thought of the only other person in the world who could read his mind in such a manner. He thought of hot sauce packets and children’s books, long nights spent doing laundry and trips to the zoo…the way her hair literally formed a halo around her head when she leaned back onto the pillows as they made love, and how if he lost her for a second time, his life would be without meaning, without joy, without Italian food.

He broke free from the shackles of that daydream, his eye catching the glint of a flicker diving through the treetops above as he asked the obvious follow-up question. "Well, how do we get across then?"

The bespectacled salesman pondered for a moment, his eyes flashing wide as he landed upon the solution.. "There are bridges that cross the gutter set up periodically along the way. We just need to walk along the banks until we find one."

They deftly made their way along the embankment, slipping over the sedimentary rocks that jutted above the flow below. They walked for nearly an hour before they came upon a small wooden bridge guarded by a haggard old woman sitting in a chair and hunched over a tree stump covered with a game board of some type. As they closed to within feet of the passage, the tired figure sprang to action, standing and blocking their way.

"Who goes there?!?" she cried in a foul, prickly tone.

"It is but I, Pennsylvania Halpert and my sidekick Da-wight," Pennsylvania responded. "We seek safe passage to the other side of the gorge and were hoping we could use your bridge to…"

"Nonsense!" came the retort. "No one passes here without first challenging me to a game of…cribbage!" Ominous sounding instrumentation reverberated through the woodlot as the old crone cackled with glee. She hobbled her way over to the stump as she gestured toward Pennsylvania to take the seat on the opposite side.

He peered on quizzically. "What’s to stop us from just walking across right now?" he asked.

She pointed down to the ground. A small rodent, perhaps a mouse or a shrew, was scurrying toward the bridge. As its paws touched the timber, a great jolt of energy shook the ground and a flash of light lit the dark forest as though it were Times Square. They looked back to see only the charred remains of whatever the creature was. Dwight’s eyes went wide and Jim took the hint that he wanted nothing to do with the electrified bridge. He still wasn’t sure how the wood hadn’t been incinerated itself though…must have been some special enhanced wood, he guessed.

He quickly scooted into the seat facing the old woman. "Let’s do this then," he sneered. Luckily for him, he was sort of a cribbage expert. He and Pam spent most of their free time playing cribbage… on the bed, in the shower, on the kitchen counter, on the couch, out on the porch, in the conference room at Dunder Mifflin if there was nowhere more convenient…he’d gotten so good at it that she was practically begging him to lay down the board and get the pegs flying into the holes within minutes of waking up every morning.. He could definitely take out an aged, senile, nearly blind nonagenarian.

The game progressed quickly, with Jim using his sharp sense of anticipation to play nearly every game perfectly. He was within 15 slots of the finish line and figured he could finish off his opponent, who lagged a solid dozen holes further back, in one more hand. After a volley of cards, he counted his hand and found that he was one peg short of finishing the game. He was shocked to find that his opponent had three fives and a jack in hand with a 5 in the middle, for 28 points and an unbelievable win.

Quickly the woman stood as if to dispatch him into the gutter, but Jim had a secret weapon on his side. As he looked longingly into her eyes, he mesmerized her with a 27 second stare down. Then, as if to finish her off, stubble began magically sprouting from his chin and cheeks, growing into full-blown scruff within seconds. It was a bloodbath. The old wretch, being female as she was, was rendered helpless…she turned and plunged head-first into the gutter, never to be seen again.

"How did you do that?" Dwight stammered, completely awestruck by the display he’d witnessed.

"Oh, it was in the Complete Guide to Hotness, right after the forearm flash." Dwight simply nodded. "Well, shall we?" Pennsylvania motioned, and they both stepped across the bridge onto the other side of the gutter. They would never have guessed what would happen next.